O5-1 laid sprawled out on the desert ground and slowly succumbed to death. The prospect of death had never truly hit O5-1, and in his mind it never would have. Alas, the Fountain of Youth can only do so much, and being miles away from it in the middle of nowhere after being shot is certainly an unfortunate position to be in for an O5 member. O5-1 attempted to stand, only to discover that he had lost all feeling in his legs. Weaker and weaker he grew, desperately crawling across the cracked dry ground, and his mind became clouded with the fog of oblivion. Soon, he forgot where he was, what he had been doing there, who exactly shot him, and even his real name. He stopped trying to move; it didn't matter anymore. He would die.
But at least he'd be remembered.
He stared into the blue sky, the sun having no effect on him becoming colder and colder by the second. He realized no one would come, and accepted it, just as a shadow suddenly cast over him. He looked to his right and saw, on the rock beside him, a man in a black suit and pants, his face somehow covered in shadow. As O5-1's eyes widened, the suited man took out a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket, took one cigarette out, and offered it to O5-1.
"4999?" O5-1 shouted aloud. SCP-4999 silently nodded in response, once again gesturing the cigarette to O5-1. O5-1 gently took it, while SCP-4999 took out a cigarette of his own and lit both. Just as was described in the file.
"How are you coming to me? I'm one of the most powerful people on Earth, I have allies and friends across the world!"
SCP-4999 shook his head. He put away his lighter and retrieved a Polaroid picture which he presented to O5-1. It was every O5 member sitting in chairs, all 13, except for O5-1. Well, except for the previous O5-1, as a new member, different face entirely, sat happily next to O5-2. None of the other members looked any different.
O5-1 considered the photo. Had they really forgotten him so quickly? In recollection, or what little he had left of it, he realized that he never knew who the previous O5-1 was, or O5-2, and so on. They were simply replaced, the old tossed out for the new. Now, this was happening to him, and would happen to O5-2, and O5-3, and the rest of the Council upon their deaths. The Council continued, but the individual members were left behind.
"No…no. This just…it can't! I wo-eargh!" screamed O5-1, as he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. Too much movement, too much revelation and stress. SCP-4999 put his hand on O5-1's shoulder, and he quickly felt very calm. He needed to rest, to let go, to accept. Two deep breaths in and out, some of the final breaths he ever took, got O5-1 to settle down. SCP-4999 smiled as he continued smoking. They were silent for a while, before O5-1 asked another question.
"Are you an angel of death?"
SCP-4999 shook his head. It was true that, in all their research of death-related anomalies and the afterlife, SCP-4999 had nothing to do with it at all. It's not like he killed those lonely people, wherever they came from and wherever they belonged. He simply stood by them, like a beacon of hope that, whatever was next, they'd be ready. It wasn't knowing what was next that was important, it was knowing that you could do it, and you'd be encouraged. SCP-4999 ensured that everyone was encouraged.
"Why do you do this?"
SCP-4999 sighed and stared into O5-1's eyes, and in them O5-1 saw past SCP-4999. He saw people, from the highly famous to the barely notable, places both ancient and modern, memories long forgotten, and in the middle of it all was a void of nothingness. This wasn't SCP-4999, it was so much more than SCP-4999. It was everything that didn't fit in, every incorrectly coded program, every shadow-ridden person, every veil-covered anomaly, everything fell under his umbrella. Yet, despite having so many names, he had none to call his own.
Once again, O5-1 asked "Why do you do this?"
The man without a name responded with a self-deprecating smile. In truth, he didn't know why he had to tend to every forgotten human, it was just his role. A role in a larger whole. There were other people like him, people to watch over us, guardians of immeasurable power. What else would they do with this immense power than to help those who need it? To help those that didn't matter, and to help those that really mattered.
Nobody knew what it was like to be forgotten, because Nobody was there. Whether it was SCP-4999, the Critic, the Administrator, a homeless man, a god, or another thing altogether, it couldn't let those memories just fade away. Nobody was all those collected memories, it was everybody. O5-1 was just another name on the list.
With as much energy as he could muster, O5-1 held Nobody's hand. He had so many questions. How did Nobody come to be the way he was, would there ever be a time where he wouldn't be there, what comes next? Again, O5-1 realized that it didn't matter. He'd be forgotten by his peers, his family, everyone he had ever come into contact with, but his memories would live on. As long as that was the case, it didn't matter what came next. O5-1 was ready, and Nobody knew that. Nobody remembered him.
O5-1's grasp was lost, and Nobody lingered a moment before disappearing entirely.
